


Cold Tea

by Theunknowngoblin



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Dear god the fluff, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Pet Names, Tea, old men being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theunknowngoblin/pseuds/Theunknowngoblin
Summary: Piandao isn’t feeling like himself. Jeong Jeong helps with that.Fat needs a raise.
Relationships: Jeong Jeong & Piandao (Avatar), Jeong Jeong/Piandao (Avatar)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Cold Tea

Piandao isn’t feeling like himself.

The tells are minute, tiny discrepancies in what is otherwise a porcelain-like visage of serenity. Piandao’s posture is usually without fault, even when its just an informal tea between the two of them. He doesn’t insist that Jeong Jeong uphold the same standards, knowing exactly how well _that_ conversation would go.

On that particular day Piandao doesn’t slump exactly, but his movements aren’t as crisp as usual. His hands loosely curl around the cup instead of grasping it, as he stares somewhat glassily into the steaming drink.

Jeong Jeong frowns and decides to gently prod to see the full extent of his friend’s unravelling.

“You’re letting that go cold.”

“Hm?” Piandao lifts his eyes as opposed to his head, as if it’s too heavy. “Pardon?”

The older man’s frown deepens, this is worrying. “Your tea, it’ll get cold.”

“Perhaps I prefer it that way.” Piandao counters wryly, lifting the cup to his lips as if that settles the matter. The nails of his hand are irregular, jagged at the edges. How very unusual.

The fire nation is cruel to the anxious child. Parents will wage war on the jittery habits of their offspring with weapons of merciless effectiveness. Dabbing thumbs with lye, smacking shaking knees with switches, belittling the stammerer into silence.

He can only imagine how the teachers at the orphanage would have responded.

The last time the swordsman had chewed his nails was after they’d had a squabble which escalated into a full-on row. Jeong Jeong had skulked away into the surrounding wilds to think and hadn’t returned till the following afternoon. They made up, intimately, and Jeong Jeong felt the skin of his back being snagged on Piandao’s suddenly ragged talons.

He didn’t ask, suspecting he might uncover something raw. 

All the same, Jeong Jeong knows a silent plea of distress when he sees one. Putting down his own cup, he moves to Piandao’s side of the low table.

Piandao doesn’t move away, yet. “Yes?”

There is a stack of pillows just behind him, not that he ever lounges on them. It takes surprisingly little for Jeong Jeong to lean on the other man’s chest and push him back. Piandao is taller and fashioned from lythe but toned muscle, he could easily resist if he wanted to. But he doesn’t, he _chooses_ not to.

They land with a soft thump, Piandao blinking up at Jeong Jeong, trying to form his features into something disgruntled. “What mischief are you doing now?” He says, in a tone he must have used on a student once.

Jeong Jeong arranges himself so that he’s comfortable and that he’s not preventing Piandao from breathing. The younger man looked tired this close up. So, a nightmare perhaps? He can imagine the scene, Piandao waking in a cold, shivering sweat, slipping out of bed without disturbing Jeong Jeong. Its quite extraordinary how quiet the sword master can be.

In the dark of the early morning, Piandao would have thrown himself into an activity, calligraphy, training, anything but sitting and dwelling on his own thoughts. Then he would have snuck back into their bed just as silently as he’d left, Jeong Jeong none the wiser.

“I think I’ll take a nap.” Said the older man, kissing the tip of Piandao’s nose. “Join me?”

“It’s barely noon.”

Snaking his hand around the back of Piandao’s head, Jeong Jeong tugs at his ribbon and frees the younger man’s ebony hair that is streaked with strands of moon-silver. “Do you have any prior engagements I should know about?”

Piandao’s lips purse out, making him look irritable and pouty. Frankly ridiculous on a man of his age. “That’s… not the point.” The sword master grumbles, eyeing Jeong Jeong’s prize as it dangles from two pinched fingers. “Are you going to return my ribbon?”

Spitefully, Jeong Jeong throws the ribbon over his shoulder. “Go get it.”

There is an annoyed sigh, and a soft curse. “…. bastard.” 

Jeong Jeong puts a finger to his lips. “Shh, language. Can’t have Fat hearing you.”

Snorting in disbelief, Piandao raises a dark eyebrow. “And what will he think if he comes in and sees us?”

He can feel Piandao’s hands wrapping around his middle, it’s a small victory. “He’s seen worse by now I think.”

It was true. Poor long-suffering Fat. Only his loyalty to his employer kept him from retiring to a nice, peaceful life elsewhere.

Jeong Jeong’s hand weaves its way in-between the strands of long hair its buried in and begins to slowly massage Piandao’s scalp. For his efforts the older man gets a low rasp of pleasure that makes the swordsman’s chest vibrate. It was a noise of pure contentment.

“I thought we were napping…” Piandao huffs into the skin of Jeong Jeong’s neck, his breath hot and tickling.

“We are.” Jeong Jeong kisses the younger man’s temple lovingly. “Dragonfly.” The absurdity of the pet name is not lost on either of them, but Piandao had the perfect counter.

“Pretty jewel.” He whispers, a smirk in his voice.

That never fails to make Jeong Jeong flustered, and he’s thankful that Piandao has his eyes closed. Its so far from the reality of who Jeong Jeong is and laced with such sickly-sweet fondness that he gaped at the younger man in disbelief when he first used it.

How far they have come. 

“Sleep.” Jeong Jeong orders, and they do.

Later, when Fat comes in after his knocking goes unanswered, he simply looks at the two old warriors lying in a crumbled pile in each other’s arms and takes away their cold tea without a word.

He’s seen worse, after all.


End file.
